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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851911">take a day off</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lover_of_queens/pseuds/lover_of_queens'>lover_of_queens</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fate: The Winx Saga (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Sickfic, Sleepy Cuddles, well mostly fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:36:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,081</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851911</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lover_of_queens/pseuds/lover_of_queens</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Request: A cute little fic about Farah/Reader with Farah having a cold. </p><p>"You finally push her off when you think you start to notice the smell of burnt soup coming from the other room. “Insufferable and clingy. Sick is a good look on you, Dowling.” </p><p>She somehow has enough strength left to whack you with one of her pillows. And you take it like a champ, smiling all the way into the kitchen."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Farah Dowling/Female!Reader, Farah Dowling/Original Female Character(s), Farah Dowling/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>79</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>take a day off</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I got this prompt on tumblr and couldn't resist writing some more Farah femslash! The request specified fluff and I tried to stick to that as best as I possibly could, but if you're familiar with my other works you know I love throwing a whole host of emotions into the mix. But, this is mostly fluff, so please do enjoy! </p><p>And as always for my reader fics, reader character is an adult. Consent is always necessary/required.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Saul finds you when you’re in the middle of teaching a class on hundreds of years old fairy history and while you’re not grateful for the interruption, you can tell that several students in the class are. The ones whose eyes are still open anyway. </p><p>You’d been contemplating dropping one of the massive history books on the floor to wake them up, but you did have some sympathy for them, remembering what it was like to be their age and utterly bored to death with whatever words were coming out of the teacher’s mouth. Plus, Farah would have you killed if you damaged one of the library’s most ancient books. </p><p>“If you could excuse me for one moment,” you say, before making your way over to Saul. “What’s going on?” </p><p>He pulls you out in the hallway and your heart clenches. <em> It’s nothing</em>, you tell yourself, but after the events of the past year, you can’t help the reaction. “Saul . . .” </p><p>“It’s nothing serious,” he says quickly; the worry on your face must have made itself evident. You remind yourself to get better at hiding your emotions. “We all know it’s flu season . . .”</p><p>You think back to the decreasing numbers in your own classroom as of late; the recent cold snap. The fact that anywhere you walk at Alfea you’re bound to hear someone having a coughing fit. Honestly, the whole school sounds like a hospital wing at this point. </p><p>“Come to remind me to take my vitamins?” you ask, leaning against the wall, a hint of a smile on your face. </p><p>Saul swallows, his eyes darting between you and your open classroom door. “It's Farah. Every time she sneezes it activates her telekinesis and the nurse has already had to deal with several injured students today. And if Farah doesn’t take the rest of the day off, then I fear that number will only grow.”</p><p>You resist the urge to laugh. Farah sending students flying <em>is </em>a serious issue and you can only imagine that she must feel terrible about it. But that doesn’t change the fact that the image it’s brought to your mind is absolutely hilarious, and judging from the way Saul has his lips pursed, you can only imagine he is <em>also </em>trying not to laugh. </p><p>“So, why come to me?” you ask. “I am a little busy at the moment. Professorial duties, I’m sure you’re familiar.” </p><p>Saul scratches the back of his neck. “Ben and I have tried talking to her, but she insists she’s fine to go on teaching. I was wondering if you might have more luck.” </p><p>You don’t have to ask why he’s under that impression. While you and Farah have been trying your hardest to keep your budding relationship as secret as possible, it’s a small school. The group of faculty is even smaller, especially now that teaching at Alfea is considered a ‘high-risk’ job. An attempted coup will do that to a school’s reputation. </p><p>So, clearly the rumours have been spreading. “Where is she?” you ask. </p><p>“Her office.” </p><p>You poke your head back into your classroom. “Class dismissed.” </p><p>You pretend not to notice the sighs of relief. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>When you make it to Farah’s office, you find Terra and Aisha sitting at the assistant’s desk. Terra’s vines have sprung from the floor, their tendrils wrapped around the legs of the chairs to keep them in place. </p><p>“It’s that bad, huh?” you ask, shutting the door behind you. </p><p>“It’s like a mini earthquake every time she sneezes,” Terra says. Her face soon goes red once she realizes she’s made a complaint about the Headmistress. Personally, you find yourself agreeing as you hear an ‘<em>achoo’ </em>from the adjacent room and the very floor shakes beneath your feet. You put your hands on the wall to keep yourself steady. </p><p>“This isn’t normal, is it?” Aisha asks suddenly. You now realize that Terra’s vines are also wrapped around her to tether her to the chair. Whether it is because of the disagreement the two had or just to keep her from flying away at every sneeze, you are uncertain. </p><p>But her words strike straight to your heart. “It’s fine,” you say. <em>The aftereffects of coming back from the dead</em>. </p><p>Somehow, from the looks in their eyes, you can tell they heard the words you could not say. </p><p>You give them a nod and they take it as a dismissal, Terra’s vines retreating back into the earth or just vanishing altogether. Once they leave, you make your way into Farah’s office, opening the door cautiously. </p><p>“Farah, this is ridiculous,” are the first words out of your mouth as you take in the state of her office. There are several books on the floor, spines cracked on impact, that have fallen from the bookshelves. A lamp is hanging askew and you’re pretty certain the tea set is smashed. </p><p>“Nothing a bit of <em> fucking </em> fairy magic can’t fix.” </p><p>You take in her face for the first time today. You’d spent the previous night in your own room because you had papers to grade and didn’t want to keep Farah up. Her nose is as red as the reindeer from the First World songs and her eyes are covered in a kind of glassy haze. Her fingers are pressed into her temples, you imagine the aforementioned ‘fucking fairy magic’ may also be a cause of stress. </p><p>You can practically feel the heat radiating from her skin as you walk over to her, and as you press the back of your hand to her forehead, your suspicions are confirmed. Farah’s running a fever. </p><p>She pulls her head away from your hand, though not unkindly. “I’m fine. I don’t know what the lot of you are worried about.”</p><p>Farah sneezes into her elbow and your nails dig into the wood of her desk fighting against the force of it. But you suppose it could be worse, she does seem to have the telekinesis mostly under control - for now. “Farah, I’m beginning to think you don’t understand the meaning of the word fine.” </p><p>She shoots you a look and you imagine that it’s supposed to be somewhere in the vicinity of ‘<em>incredulous </em>’ but all you can see is the exhaustion written on her face. Harsh lines across her skin that weren’t there the last time you saw her. </p><p>“You can take a break you know. The world won’t crumble if you just take a day to rest.” </p><p>Farah looks away from you, a sudden darkness in her eyes that makes you feel sick to your stomach. It hurts to see her like this, but love means being there for it all. </p><p>“Farah,” you whisper. “She’s gone. She can’t hurt us anymore. Saul is more than capable of  handling the running of Alfea for one day.” </p><p>Farah turns her head towards you once more, she nods slightly and you reach out your hands so you can help her to her feet. Once she is steady, you pull her into you, breathing in her warm scents of vanilla and oak. Her body sinks into you and you use whatever strength you have to keep the both of you propped up. </p><p>“Let’s get you into bed,” you say, tucking a damp piece of hair behind her ear. </p><hr/><p>“Farah Elizabeth Dowling, I swear to -”</p><p>When you poke your head into her bedroom, you see her sitting at the desk in the corner poring over several pieces of paperwork. She, at least, has the good sense to look guilty at being caught out of bed. </p><p>“I believe my words were, <em>I’m going to put the chicken noodle soup on, please be in bed by the time I return</em>.” </p><p>Farah can’t help but smile at how absolutely <em>bossy </em>you get when it comes to taking care of her. She gets up from the desk and starts making her way over to her bed, “Fine. But only because the words are all starting to look blurry.” </p><p>“You’re insufferable when you’re sick,” you say, sitting next to her on the bed. “Turn around.” </p><p>Farah finally seems to realize that it’ll be easier if she just cooperates and does as you ask, turning until her back is to you. Your fingers seek out the tight braid in her hair, undoing it as gently as you possibly can. But Farah still winces on occasion and you apologize by pressing kisses to the nape of her neck whenever you have to separate a particularly difficult tangle. You finish by tying it into a long braid that trails down her back - it’ll keep the hair off of her sweat-stained skin. </p><p>“Now, I’m going to get the soup, please be in your pyja-” before you can finish your sentence, Farah's arms are around you. You hold your little - though admittedly very tall - furnace in your arms for as long as she needs. </p><p>You finally push her off when you think you start to notice the smell of burnt soup coming from the other room. “Insufferable <em>and </em>clingy. Sick is a good look on you, Dowling.” </p><p>She somehow has enough strength left to whack you with one of her pillows. And you take it like a champ, smiling all the way into the kitchen. </p><p>When you return, warm soup in hand, Farah has dutifully changed into something more comfortable. She’s wearing an old oversized t-shirt of yours, it runs long on you, less so on her, leaving her bare legs exposed. You swallow, somehow even as sick as she is, Farah is still the most radiant person you’ve ever seen. </p><p>Farah props up her pillows and tucks herself in underneath the blanket as you may make your way back over to the bed. Cautiously sitting on it, so as to not spill the soup. You lift the spoon up to her lips and she looks at you aghast. </p><p>Farah sighs something that sounds a lot like your name. “I'm not a child. I am perfectly capable of feeding myself.” </p><p>“I know. But let me take care of you,” you say. Adding a “please,” as an afterthought. </p><p>Farah nods, although she doesn’t look overly happy about it and you raise the spoon to her lips before she can change her mind. “Open wide.” </p><p>One of Farah’s eyebrows shoots up. </p><p>“That’s <em>not </em>how I meant that and you know it. Drink the damn soup.” </p><p>You feed her until the bowl is empty and a bit of colour has returned to her pale face. Although that may just be the fever and not the soup. You press a kiss to her forehead as you get up to close the curtains, “time for bed.” </p><p>Soon the room is shadowed in darkness and you make for the door so Farah can get some sleep. But you really should have known better and after you take several steps the sound of your name floats over to you as if carried by the wind. You turn to look back and Farah is giving you her best puppy eyes and taps the empty space next to her on the bed. </p><p>You have work to do but somehow telling Farah ‘no’ when she’s in this state doesn’t seem possible and before you know it you’re in the bed next to her. She flips so she’s backing you and you pull her into you. </p><p>You don’t mind being the big spoon right now and your hand snakes under her shirt so it can rest against the bare skin of her stomach. Farah shudders as your fingers make contact. </p><p>“Cold,” she mutters, already on the edge of dropping off to sleep. </p><p>You press a kiss to her shoulder as you snuggle in closer, your own eyes starting to feel heavy. </p><hr/><p>When you open your eyes, the unmistakable light of morning is streaming in through the curtains and Farah is propped up on her elbow, just looking at you. Her hair has come undone over the course of the night and is now framing her face in soft waves. You want to memorize every strand. </p><p>“Good morning, my love,” Farah whispers, leaning over to kiss your lips. </p><p>“Mhhm, morning breath,” you complain, but it’s half-hearted and you whine when she pulls away.</p><p>“Whose clingy now?” Farah laughs. </p><p>You open your mouth to retort but before you can even think of something witty to say a sneeze rips through your body.  </p><p>“I’ll call Saul,” Farah says, already reaching for her phone. “He can handle running the school for one more day.” </p>
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